


You Didn't See Me Grey

by Redmoog



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redmoog/pseuds/Redmoog
Summary: We never saw Wing grey.





	You Didn't See Me Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Compressed time (I think that's what it's called). Requested on Wattpad but this doesn't even fill the request. Cross-posted there. 
> 
> It's ridiculously hard to scroll and edit on the phone. The scrolling doesn't even work.

Wing had no idea if Drift would be happy to see him. After being impaled he'd had to undergo some crazy medical treatment and only now had he been let go. He didn't know exactly where Drift was, but Not Like Anybody Else (his Great Sword) could point him in the right direction, and then he'd wander around hopefully.

It was a terrible plan, which was why Dai Atlas hadn't allowed him to go unaccompanied. Bloodline was with him, though he might as well not be for all the noise he made. All Bloodline did was meditate and read and talk to him when he wanted a friend. He staved off the loneliness a bit. Wing was grateful now because making the long journey to Cybertron by himself would've been unbearable. 

They should be near. Wing said to Bloodline anxiously, "I wonder if he'll be glad to see me." 

Bloodline snorted. "I can't think of anyone who wouldn't be. You're very lovable."

"Is that so?" Wing smiled. "I never would've thought." His spark fluttered happily and he purred as Bloodline reached out to rub his folded wings.

The maroon mech had anticipation and excitement in his field, though Wing detected apprehension. He wanted to comfort Bloodline; there was no way he would meet any of his old friends. Bloodline was uncomfortable with that fact-he was happy that he could avoid any potentially dangerous or awkward encounters, but he wanted to see something from his past. Wing made a reminder for them to visit Bloodline's home city. 

What was it?

Wing didn't know. He could find out later. Now he prepared himself to face Drift again. 

He'd finally see his lovely speedster. 

•••

Wing and Bloodline stepped off the ship. This was only Wing's second time on Cybertron. It wasn't like he'd needed to exit and reenter the planet that many times. The sight of Cybertron now almost brought him to his knees. The devastation was immense and Iacon twinkled gently in the distance, with half-constructed Tarn somewhere beyond. The mecha'd decided to rebuilt Tarn before Kaon for some reason. Wing didn't know why, and he didn't really need to know. 

Bloodline said, "He thinks you're dead."

Wing knew that. Drift had seen him impaled, stabbed through the chamber. There was no way anyone else would've survived, but Wing was Wing and Wing was stubborn. He wouldn't have died without closure. 

He wouldn't have died without Drift by his side.

"I know," Wing replied, picking his way over the rubble and stains. The destruction didn't look new. It had probably been from a long time ago, back when the war had first started. His locator informed him helpfully that he was in Vos. 

He glanced at the red triple-changer. "Are you ready?"

Bloodline looked sad. His Great Sword's gem was pulsing comfortingly. He shook his helm as if it would clear the haze that had started to cloud his processors and nodded. "I won't get more ready than this," he responded, determination lacing his words. Together, they transformed and started flying to Iacon. 

Halfway there they were interrupted by an incessant pinging on their comm systems. Bloodline was the one who answered. 

::State your designations and duties,:: someone commanded them. 

::Bloodline and Wing,:: Bloodline said, ::Knights of Light. We come in peace.::

Wing heard a sharp gasp on the other end. 

::Enter,:: a different voice said, and an invisible force field retracted to let them in. 

So there had been scanning systems. 

They entered. 

•••

"He thinks you're dead," Bloodline said again, which puzzled Wing. 

"I know," he said. "You just told me. Is something wrong?" He frowned concernedly. 

Bloodline sighed. "You'd better prepare yourself for some serious fallout," he warned the white jet, "or an emotional breakdown."

Wing couldn't help the way his wings trembled at the thought. "I've caused him so much grief," he said mournfully, a sad trill leaving his vocaliser.

Bloodline patted his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. You've paid for it by nearly dying."

"It's because I nearly died," Wing exclaimed, frustrated with himself, "that he's even grieving."

"Well," said Bloodline, "you'll get to talk to him soon. He's in Iacon with his Autobots."

Wing's spark ached. 

Supportively, Bloodline rested a servo on one of Wing's turbines while they entered the city gates. There was a small yellow minibot there to greet them. 

"Hey!" he said. "I'm Bumblebee. Is there anyone you're looking for in particular?" he asked as they went through several security checks. Wing noticed their cautiousness. Bloodline noticed the lack of medics. 

"A mech designated Drift," Wing told Bumblebee. "He's an Autobot, white-"

Bumblebee grinned. "I know him. Everybody does." He started striding purposefully towards the medical corridor and bay of the building and the two Knights followed at a stroll because their legs were so much longer than his. 

They walked for a long time, so long that Wing's mind had started drifting off. Every step was mechanical. 

"We should've driven," said Bloodline, when it had been a breem. They'd made so many turns that Wing wouldn't have been surprised if Iacon's entrance was a maze. He hoped Bloodline had been keeping track of their movements, because he hadn't.

"Probably," said Bumblebee, "but if Wing turns out to actually be a car I'm going to be very angry."

Wing laughed. "I'm not, don't worry."

Bumblebee looked at him curiously. "What are you, though? I've never seen a flier like you. You are a flier, right?"

"Yeah," Wing said. "I'm an stunt frame. My wings are tucked in." He unfolded hem to demonstrate. Fully extended, his wings were beautiful and impressive. 

A door opened. 

Bumblebee bounded towards it. "Let's go in!"

•••

Now that he was this near to Drift he could feel their sparks trying to get closer. No doubt Drift could feel it too, because when the other white mech came into view he looked distraught. 

"Wing?" He gasped and stared blankly for a klik. His armour started rattling until Wing moved forward slowly and hugged him, his wings flared out and trembling under the weight of his happiness. 

"I'm back," Wing whispered into his neck cabling, holding Drift up when he suddenly collapsed. It had been expected, after all. He could feel Drift's emotions running rampant through his field, suspicion warring with love warring with grief. 

Drift pushed him away roughly when he could, even though it clearly killed him to do so. "It can't be," he mumbled, shivering, looking everywhere but at Wing. "You died."

"My frame hadn't greyed when you left," Wing informed him, gently. "I was taken by the slavers and they managed to make me remain alive." His phrasing didn't go unnoticed but his next words explained it. "They wanted to-to make their offspring more mechanical. They were dying out."

The information looked like it was making Drift's head reel. 

Wing skipped a few decades of the story. "Eventually I was saved by Anaphora, Foreshadow and Mirador."

He said, weakly, "I don't believe it. How did you find me?"

Wing's spark fell at the obvious paranoia. A lifetime of being manipulated was probably why Drift didn't trust that he was back. "Feel my field," he urged. "You'll know it's me." He felt Drift's field brush against his again, soft and curious and scared. "I found you because Iacon is the only city standing right now. Bumblebee took us to you."

"Us?" Drift echoed, only noticing Bloodline then. "Who are you?" This was concerning, but not alarming. No one really noticed Bloodline even though he was a hulk and one of the other medics. He was quiet and he liked it that way.

Bloodline smiled mysteriously until Wing nudged him. "Knight Drift," he greeted Drift, field extending in a greeting typical of the Knights. "I am Knight Bloodline."

"Knight Bloodline, I want to know you," Drift responded automatically. He didn't know Bloodline, but he would soon. Bloodline smiled. 

"As I want to know you," he said to Drift. Wing smiled. It was all going well. 

That was, until Drift turned back towards him, optics blazing like a cold blue fire. 

"Why didn't you come sooner? Why wasn't I alerted that you're alive?" he demanded, the fury mixed with sorrow. He was doing a very bad job of hiding his sadness. 

"I was only allowed out recently," Wing said apologetically, not trying to reach out to his-what was Drift now? An ex? "I started out as soon as I could. I didn't know you were alive, Drift. I thought you were dead."

Ratchet chose to enter the room. He was holding a cube that was three quarters full. Or a quarter empty, Wing realised. He stared at them all incredulously for a nanoklik before reacting: "Get out of my medibay and settle your relationship drama outside, or I'll call Jazz to deal with you guys!" To add to the threatening front he waved a datapad and the glyphs on it read 'I'm being disturbed in my medibay. Jazz, please come clean this up.'

It was amusing even though Wing had no idea who Jazz was. 

Drift almost growled. "You're not even busy!" he protested, obstinate. He didn't actually mind leaving the medibay but now that he had been confronted he wanted to make things difficult. 

"We'll go," Wing said almost at the same time, earning him a glare from Drift and a smile from Bloodline. "We didn't mean to cause you any trouble." 

Drift snorted and with an audible vent, he turned and walked out of the medibay. Ratchet glowered after him affectionately, which bewildered Wing. Bloodline was right on his heels as the three stepped outside. Bumblebee had stayed behind to chat with the annoyed medic. 

"Who's that?" Wing asked. 

"Ratchet," Drift replied perfunctorily, but Wing could hear the loving inflections and subglyphs of the designation. So it was someone important enough to Drift that he had bothered to go figure out every single subharmonic. But then he was better educated now than when he had been Deadlock, so it probably hadn't been much effort. In conclusion, Drift was with Ratchet. They were an item.

Wing wanted to hear how Drift said his name without it being a question. 

"He means a lot to you," Wing noted, scanning the room without any jealousy. He had been gone for such a long time that it was selfish to expect Drift to have waited for him. He couldn't suppress the sad twinge in his spark or the faint bitterness, though, and his wings twitched. 

Drift's finials seemed to droop. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you'd died."

Wing was surprised. "Sorry? What for?" He knew the reason but asking Drift meant that t was easier to broach the topic. 

"For abandoning you," Drift confessed, "for taking another lover, for leaving the city, for accepting your death so easily..." The list would span centuries if he didn't stop. "For not preventing it."

Wing's golden optics were warm. "You couldn't have foreseen it," he said gently, "and it was not your job to protect me. We all agreed to be out there. We were all trained. If anything, I should be apologising for leaving you." In the background he sensed Bloodline wandering off with another Autobot by his side, but he was too occupied with Drift to bother. "I'm sorry." 

He took Drift's servo in his and the gesture was so shockingly familiar that he had to concentrate to keep from falling. They sat down on one of the chairs in the common room, so they didn't block the corridor. 

They were not alone. 

"Are ya Wing, then?" a black and white mech asked. Wing glanced at him curiously, and Drift's expression grew guarded. 

"Yes," he replied evenly, his digits tracing circles on Drift's palm like he had done so many vorns ago. Circle, circle, circle. It was a shape that Wing liked because of it symbolism. A cycle, a recurring incident, a routine, an enclosure, a limit, infinity. 

Also, their order was called the Circle of Light. 

The black and white mech grinned. "Nice ta meet ya," he said cheerfully, sticking out a servo that Wing didn't know what to do with. "Ah'm Jazz."

::Take it and shake it,:: Drift told him. Wing did so and was rewarded with a human gesture that had no meaning to him. He didn't miss the gleam in Jazz's optics. The mech looked dangerous and enigmatic with his visor covering his optics (the windows to the soul) and his mouth exposed and shaped in a sly grin. Drift didn't comment, however, so Wing decided that Jazz was not a threat without showing it. 

"Nice to meet you, Jazz," Wing replied politely. "You know my name. How are things with you?" It was common courtesy in NCC to ask after someone's wellbeing, and if they didn't appreciate it they could just say they were fine and be done with it. 

Jazz looked delighted. "Things're goin' well, ah guess." He shrugged. "Mah mate Prowler's got himself in a bit of a mess with Prime, though."

Wing nodded sympathetically. "That's unfortunate," he said, "I wish him luck."

"Thanks, but he doesn't need luck," Jazz said. He had a container or something on the cushion beside him. "That processor of his is more'n enough."

::Prowl was CTO,:: Drift supplied, ::Chief Tactical Officer. He's got one Pit of a processor.::

"That's good to know," Wing acknowledged, squeezing Drift's servo lightly. Hitting upon an idea, he asked, "What can you tell me about Drift or Ratchet? Or Drift and Ratchet."

Drift gave him a look and looked resigned to his fate.

"Ah'ma start with Drift, since ya haven't seen him in so long." An evil flash rolled over Jazz's visor to match with his smirk. "He's been very naughty."

Wing raised an optic ridge. "Is that so?" he prompted the white speedster, who feigned innocence. 

"I didn't do anything," Drift said. "And if I did it wasn't my idea."

"So you did," Wing guessed, turning back to face Jazz, who offered him an energon jelly. He accepted it and said, "What did Drift do?"

"I didn't do anything," Drift said. "Really."

Jazz laughed. His voice was rich and nice to listen to. "Only joined Rodimus 'gainst Megatron an' Magnus." He did a visor-wink. "Went spectacularly well."

Wing was delighted by this news. "That's great!" he chirped, because he was a mech of pranks. "What did they do?"

Jazz laughed again. "If ah told ya that it'd be revealin' a secret."

Wing gave his most innocent face. "I'm very trustworthy," he claimed, begging to know. 

"Nah, mech, sorry." Jazz didn't sound sorry at all.

Wing accepted defeat graciously. "Fine, then. I'll find out from Drift myself later. What about Ratchet?"

Jazz snorted. "Doc's crazy. He did overtime almost every day and now that things have settled down he's finding life very boring." He watched as Wing reached up to put an arm around Drift's shoulders, rubbing a finial as he listened. Jazz almost hesitated but remembered that Wing had asked, and said, "He got involved with your ex-'Con here after the war ended."

Wing tried to press his jealousy down. He said, "How? Ratchet seems very...unaccessible."

"He is," Jazz agreed. "I never figured out exactly how Drift managed to get his attention." He chewed a jelly and mused, "Maybe-nah." He paused as a comm came through. 

"Need to go?" Wing asked, a little sad at the prospect. Jazz was wonderfully cheerful. 

Jazz nodded. "Sorry. Prowler's callin' me."

Wing smiled. "Don't keep him waiting, then."

When Jazz had left, Drift said, "Are you upset?"

Wing was not surprised. "Upset?" he repeated. "Drift, you deserved happiness. Ratchet clearly gives you that. I...was gone for a long time." The empty stroking of the finial continued. "You had to let me go."

Drift moved beside him. Wing saw the shake of his helm from his peripheral vision. "That's the thing," Drift said weakly. "I couldn't."

"Couldn't let me go?"

Drift's field tightened towards him, but since Wing was touching him he could still feel it. The spark resonance between them hummed strongly. Wing could feel his spark more content with its partner beside it, and knew the same applied to Drift. 

Drift nodded mutely, shaking Wing's servo off his helm. "I-" He faltered. "I love you so much, Wing. Whether we were going to be amica, or conjunx, or whatever, it didn't matter then. I could feel your pain as if it was my own." He vented shakily, uncharacteristically. Dai Atlas's words about containing one's emotions sprang to Wing's mind but he pushed them away. Now was not the time for a lecture. "I left you even without knowing whether you'd died. I started to assume you had. It was selfish of me."

Wing nuzzled him gently. "It wasn't," he corrected. "It was all you could do, after feeling so strongly. I don't blame you." But he thought back to when he had woken to find that Drift had gone. He'd never felt more lonely. 

Wing was very lonely, no matter what everyone else thought. 

He wasn't like the others. 

He continued, "I'm glad you found Ratchet. You wouldn't have survived with a hole in your spark." 

Drift was shocked because Wing had described his feelings so accurately. "How did you..." he started, "know..."

Wing shifted his position slightly. "I've lost mecha before," he replied, his tone making the answer more casual than it really was. It didn't work on Drift, who comforted him by tracing the top seams in his wings. The touch was comforting and Wing leaned into it. 

"I'm sorry," Drift said. Wing kissed his cheek and stood. 

"I think it's time you showed me around Cybertron," he suggested, trying to lighten the mood. 

Drift grinned and accepted the change. "Yeah. Let's start with Iacon."

Wing laughed. "It's all that's left."

Drift fired off a short comm to Ratchet, and they set off. 

They were reunited, and no one was going to separate them again.


End file.
